


Changing for Love

by kirsty_booth



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Sherlolly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-12
Updated: 2014-06-19
Packaged: 2018-01-24 12:13:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1604774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirsty_booth/pseuds/kirsty_booth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A new Sherlock / Molly fiction. First chapter is set before the last scenes of His Last Vow, the rest will be after Series 3 Mild spoilers for anyone who hasn't seen Series 3.<br/>This might change, but at the moment this is a domestic / relationship story as apposed to an action story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Molly's diary 3 Feb (written 15 March)

I can’t believe this is really happening; well I can, because it is. But even a few months ago, it seemed so impossible. I’ve got him, no ‘got’ is the wrong word, but I’m actually dating Sherlock Holmes.  
It all started with an incident a last month. This might take a few diary entries, because well, it’s the emulgation of several events. I didn’t write about it before now, because I thought it was one off. He hadn’t been into Bart’s for a few weeks, well no cases anymore I guess, but I thought I’d check he was ok after that had happened with Magnusson, and OK I missed seeing him. And John, the pair of them, but of course John wasn’t at Baker Street anyway.  
So when I got there he was just staring at the wall, that horrid gratified face, with the bullet holes. I don’t know why Mrs Hudson doesn’t insist he gets that wall re-papered, I would. He had that bored looked look upon his face, not the concentrating one, he never has his eyes open when he does that, now they were, and he had a strange smile on face. He didn’t seem to notice that I had walked into the room, but when he did he seemed pleased to see me. I won’t bore you here with all the details of what we chatted about; some of it was mundane small talk and some of it to personal still. I can’t believe his own brother had no other option but to send to his probable death.

I will tell you about the conversation we had after dinner. Sherlock insisted on ordering Chinese, I don’t usually have takeaway during the week, but it was tasty. He didn’t seem to be eating much of it. I put that down to stress. After I was taking the empty containers out to the kitchen, I turned to Sherlock.  
“Thank you for such a lovely evening. We should do it again soon. Sorry that was really silly. I wish we could, or had done it earlier.”  
“It’s stupid to wish you could change things that can’t be changed. You don’t have to go at all; I would really like it if you stayed. I’m probably doing it all wrong, having never been in this position before. Janine was the one who persuaded me. Now I wonder, with us both playing our games if it would be the same, with someone I actually care about, as a friend of-course. Anyway I would appreciate the chance to have sex again. One more time before I leave.” Sherlock said  
I was so surprised. I knew this wasn’t coming from any kind of romantic place, well slightly maybe for me, but not for him definitely. Still I wanted to be there for him, one time at least.  
“Yes, I’ll be happy to stay. I’ll give another pleasant experience, and take your mind off, other things.” I said taking his hand, well all sex needs some foreplay and sweet talking before it.


	2. Molly's diary continued

28th Feb (Written 15 March)  
I've started going round a couple of times a week, and at the weekend. Well it’s not like I had any kind of social life before. Also I was enjoying being with him, just that. I realised that the feelings I thought I'd had before were nothing more than a silly crush. I didn’t know him then; I wanted to know him, see past the exterior he puts up, and understand the genius within. But I didn’t; because well he never let anyone that far in, expect John maybe. And without knowing the real person how can you love them? Even now I wouldn’t say I loved him, but I know him better and what I feel I know is so much more than that silly old crush, but I’m getting ahead of the story anyway.  
The first two times I'd been over, we’d had takeaway, and that’s what he suggested the third time as well, but I shook my head.  
“You're not earning that much money at the moment, remember your only working one case, and that for minimal wage. We've had lots of takeaways recently, which have been lovely, but I really think that we should cook something tonight.” I spoke gently, knowing he would not like to be reminded of his change in circumstance, but it needed to be said.  
His reply was still angry “ I only eat when I have company visiting, you know that food means nothing to me. Therefore it's is not really an expense I worry about. I thought it a pleasant idea to eat some tasty food that one didn't have to prepare, but apparently I was wrong.”  
I could tell he was going into one his sulks, and wasn't sure what to do. “It was a nice idea, but I'm just saying you can have too much of a good thing. Let me cook you something tonight, and we can have another takeaway at the weekend.” I walked to the fridge, thinking I'd make sure there were leftovers of whatever I made, I didn't like the way he'd said that he only ate when he had people over, though from what I've seen of how much he eats, maybe that’s true. As I opened the fridge I gasped, I know it was impolite but it was out before I could stop it. There was no sign of food at all, just body parts, now I know I deal in dead bodies all day, and that doesn't freak me out at all, but I never thought I'd see it in someone’s fridge. I looked up to the cupboards and there were some tines of spaghetti, but nothing I'd call real food. Sherlock was sitting in his chair, a distant far away look was in his eyes.  
I stood right in-front of him, so he'd have to see me.  
“Sherlock, where's the food, I can’t seem to find anything in the kitchen. “  
“There are tins in the cupboard. It might not be fine dining, which is why I prefer food that has been prepared for me.”  
A thought suddenly hit me. “You've never been taught how to cook have you? It's ok a lot of people don't know, and I'm happy to help you learn.”  
“I've never had the need of it, and I still don't. I don't feel hungry, and taste does little for my senses. Spending time preparing it would be a waste.”  
“No, not at all. It'll help you relax and give you something else to put it that your mind, except over-thinking cases, remember your therapist suggested more hobbies. And maybe if you cook it and understand more about food, you will enjoy it more. Everyone needs to eat, preferably twice a day” I knew I was lecturing now, but the way he kept talking about his lack of eating was worrying me.  
“I only eat when I need to, I mean really need to. At an estimate about three time a week, less when on a case. I'm still here, alive aren't I?”  
“Doesn't mean you haven't been doing your body harm. I'm the doctor, remember, I know about these things. Anyway we are doing to start cooking together, that's if you want me to keep visiting you.”  
Sherlock paused for a moment. I think he was dumbstruck by the fact I had just made such a bold statement, so was I.  
Sherlock spoke “OK, perhaps this would make a suitable hobby. I am trying to talk the advice of my therapist and my pathologist.” He was smiling at the end. And I was blushing, his pathologist,- maybe he did care.  
I went back to the kitchen to hide my face before Sherlock saw how red my cheeks were, after making sure there really was nothing better I heated up a couple of the tins.  
The food didn't taste that bad actually, and the conversation was better. We talked a lot that night, about work, but also, stuff about our families. I let Sherlock do most of the talking, because, well he wanted to and it's too hard to stop him. But also because it's good that he's taking to someone about how he feels about his brother and his parents. And I'm glad he trusts me enough to talk to me about that stuff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also feel free to correct any grammer I get wrong.  
> I'm on holiday next week, but there will be more soon after that. How long will Sherlock and Molly be just friends...


	3. Molly Diary 15 March (written 15 March)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly and Sherlock spending the evening together has now become a regular thing, but for how long will it be a friendship thing

Today is Sunday, we spent most of the day together, as normal or what feels like normal now, even thought it's only 3 weeks since I started going round. I helped him make a curry for tea, which he did brilliantly, he says the recipes remind him of his experiments. I really feel like this could be a new thing for him, hopefully.  
We had some interesting conversations as we were cooking, including more about our families. It started quite sadly, as I remembered the recipe we were cooking was one of the last recipes my mother taught me before she got cancer. I was quite emotional remembering how the illness had taken her over. Sherlock tried to distract me, or at-least make me feel better.  
“Well, at-least your mother was prepared to teach you these things. Why do think I have such a low knowledge of cooking.”  
“I suppose it is a mother, daughter thing.” I started to say.  
“No, she just always thought Mycroft and I would live at home, or not leave until our marriage. Completely unrealistic idea of-course. My brother and I have both chosen to live our lives, away our overbearing parents, yet through their choice to bring us up without any unnecessary social interaction, we will both always struggle to have any kind relationship, romantic or otherwise. I know exactly who to blame for the problems I'm now facing.”  
I did wonder, if he was blaming hi parents instead of accepting responsibility, but we were in the middle of a tricky bit of the recipe, so I didn't push it.

Later in the evening, when it came to eating the curry, he refused.  
I knew I needed to do something to get him to eat a few mouthfuls; I nearly feel into the takeaway trap if only he would have actually eaten it. But no, we had made perfectly good food and Sherlock Holmes had to learn to eat it. I would always be worrying about him if I wasn’t strong about this now.  
“I'm the doctor here aren't I? Do you trust my opinion when it comes to biology?” I asked firmly.  
“Yes, although sometimes you do assume all those textbooks you've read are 100% accurate. Not everyone's body is the same, mine does not need food to function and survive. Actually a lot of people are probably the same, but they are all to afraid not to do what the world tells them.”  
“Sorry Sherlock, but that just isn't right. It is a medical fact that everyone's body needs food. It what keeps us functioning. It keeps our muscles working and our brains thinking. And you want to keep that mind palace you love so much in order don't you.”  
He didn't reply immediately, probably thinking about it, When he started speaking I realised that I had probably gone too far, he was really in one his strops, shouting at me now. “My mind palace is in perfect order thank you. The main reason I don't feel like eating, is the amount of food that I have been talked into eating recently, it is more I'm used too, and my body doesn't like it. I think I know how my own body is making me feel. I have been eating today, little bits as we had the curry . Chef's privilege I believe it's called.”  
I'm pretty sure I was the only one who had been eating as we'd been cooking, but there was no point in telling Sherlock that at the moment. Anyway I had other plan.  
I put the curry all in a big bowl for me, but then I started feeding him small spoonfuls, just playfully, I wondered at first if he just keep his mouth firmly shut; but luckily he did allow me to feed him.  
“Is this more fore-play, like that first night you came round here” he asked, not playfully sincerely wanting to know. He was also blushing, but then I was as well.  
“Well, if it’s between a couple it can be yes. But this isn’t, this is me trying to get you to eat something the only way I know. Don’t worry I’m not trying to get into your bed.” I said the last bit jokingly, but as the words came out, I suddenly realised I would love to be back in Sherlock's bed. Well, no, to have a relationship with him. As I said in my earlier diary entry, not just because of the brain, or the looks, but the man. The troubled man, trying to do the right thing, but not sure what that is, knowing his intelligence makes him different from everyone else, but can’t tone it down to make himself the same, or can’t see why he should. The man who thought for than 30 years he should be ok on his own because of his intelligence, now realising he’s not but doesn’t have a clue how to react with other people. But no, Sherlock would never be interested in me in that way, I would have to put it behind me like I had the earlier crush, or so I thought.  
After we had finished we cleared away the dishes, I washed while Sherlock dried. He reached for a dish just as I had put it down, and as our hands touched, there was electricity, is this because of the intimacy that had gone before, or because of how I felt about him? He obviously felt it too because it looked at me with a look of surprise on his face, I thought he might drop the plate.  
When we had finished I went to put the TV on, but Sherlock stopped me.  
“Can’t we talk?” he asked  
“Sure, want to hear about an interesting body that came into the morgue today.”  
I knew what he really wanted to talk about, but I wasn't sure if I was ready. Could my heart survive another knock back Sherlock? Oh well, it was going to happen sometime, but if I could put it off a little longer.  
Sherlock interrupted my thoughts, he speech was slower than normal, was he nervous? “Thing seem a little... different tonight. I’m not sure why, I have never felt anything like what happened earlier in the kitchen.” His expression was puzzled, so I couldn’t tell if he liked these changes or not  
I replied “I think it’s just the way our minds can start to think about things when people get close. You’re not used to it because you don’t let people this close. The way I was feeding you earlier, probably set off endorphins, and sent signals to the brain that we were close. I guess it usually something only couples do; I won’t do it again, sorry. Butt” I took a deep breath to control the stammer , and somehow managed to continue. “But we do need a way for me to get food into you. You must eat sometimes. Sorry if I go on too much, I just worry about you. As for what happened in the kitchen when our hands touched, our brains were still trying to read the earlier signals so the touch was just confusing.” Who was I kidding? I knew there was an attraction there; I just wasn’t sure if admitting it to Sherlock was a good idea. I looked from my knees to see if I could read his expression.  
He had that goofy grin on face now, “don’t apologise for nay of it. I enjoyed it. It seems I like how I feel when I’m close to someone. Or too you at least.”  
Sherlock was happy to be close to me, liked it when I hand fed him, how long before… My thoughts were interrupted as Sherlock spoke again.  
“So this is new to me, as you know. But I am assuming by that silly smile on your face, that you are happy with this, and prepared for the next stage. So what does happen now?”  
I leant over, embraced him, and put my mouth to his, the first kiss wasn't the best due to Sherlock's lack of experience, and well these are always different with a new person, but each kiss became better, more passionate and desperate than the last. It was so hard not to take things into Sherlock's bedroom, but I don’t do that on a first evening, and neither it would seem does he, or at least it didn’t occur to him to suggest it.

So there it is, I have no idea how this is going to work, or even if it will. He can be so difficult, but I know how much I care about him, and I will put up with his unsociable-ness and grumpiness to be with him. I also believe he wants to change some of that, and this might just be the best way to help him.


	4. Sherlocks Diary 16 March

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can Sherlock handle his new relationship with Molly, or they really better off apart?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Chspter is introducing Sherlock's Diary, as I think the story will be better duel viewpoint, I will be clear who's diary it is.

I can't believe I'm actually doing this. Apparently it will 'help me dissect my feelings, and make it easier for me too communicate with people.' Unfortunately I promised Mycroft I'd at-least try any suggestions my therapist made, so here I am writing in a boring diary, which is going to help no-one.  
On subject of things or more accurately, people, helping. I've gone a messed up another friendship that was actually helping me. Molly has been very good at coming round in the evening, and even with the cooking and forcing me to eat;I know she was only trying to look out for me, annoying as it was. Last night everything did seem so perfect, and I thought for a short while that I was going to be in romantic relationship that actually meant something, not just two people co-exist for mutual gain, which all it ever was with Janine. But last night, I couldn't put Molly out of mind; it wasn't the being awake that I didn't like. I'm used to that, and even know how to use to my advantage during a difficult case; It was the distraction it caused. I literally couldn't clear her out of my mind palace, and this is after the two of us being close for such a short time. Maybe it's something that would have improved over time, but my reading on the subject and my instincts, which are never wrong; tell me it would get worse. How am I meant to find Moriarty, and crack his network a second time if I can't get Molly Hooper out of my mind. Also the more I think it over, the more I think I will always make a bad boyfriend, at present when I want to be focusing on a case, even more so. What I have written here, is exactly the opposite to how a dedicated boyfriend should feel. And Molly deserves the best.

I knew at midnight what to do and the best way to do it. But it texting people in the middle of the night is meant to be 'not the done thing', I will never understand why our society needs so many silly little rules. Once my mind organised and settled once more I must of drifted off. It was gone nine o'clock, when I texted Molly.   
I have come to the decision that we are not going to do this. I don’t need any kind of relationship distracting me right now, and I will more than likely not be very good at it. You deserve someone better. Still come over tonight if you wish.  
I hate using mobiles for communicating, it takes a lot longer than talking to the person directly, yet seems somehow impersonal . That is just what I wanted for this conversation though; impersonal and something that wouldn't get an immediate response. From that point a view it worked, it had gone lunch time before she responded. I'd been able to focus on the Moriarty case all morning, not that I was anywhere close to figuring out how he survived, or where he was now; but the more time I spent thinking about it, the sooner I would get there. The best theory I'd been to able to come up with this-morning is that there were two of them; a Richard Brook and a Jim Moriarty if you will. I had only met 'Richard' who really did die on Bart's roof, but this real 'Jim' was the one who was now making himself known. Very unlikely as the Moriarty I knew would have wanted to take some glory for his crimes, and why would Richard of agreed to die, just to fool me? No, I wasn't going to be like Anderson and be swayed by impossible theories. I was only interested in working out the correct solution, which is why it was going to take a little bit longer. Anyway I had just stopped for a coffee when I heard my phone bleep. The text from her read:  
Of course I’m still coming over tonight, we’ll talk then. Don’t reply because I won’t be checking my phone again before I leave work.  
I was sure the last part was a lie, knowing Molly as well as I do, she would have responded to the text before eating her lunch, so would still have plenty of her lunch hour left to see any text from and me, and reply if she wanted. But I was satisfied with things the way they were, I would have preferred it if she hadn't felt the need to come over and no doubt try and talk me out of ending our relationship. Alas I doubt I could talk her into not coming over, not by using stupid texts at-least.

The afternoon seemed to go by much slower than the morning, and Molly was back in my thoughts. The sooner this-evening, and any romantic relationship with Molly Hooper was over the better.   
As she entered the flat I greeted her.  
“I can see from your posture and the way you keep fidgeting with your hands, that you have come here to try and change my mind from the decision that I expressed in my phone text earlier, but you’re not sure whether you will succeed or not. You will not, I have thought through all the options and this is the best for the both of us.”  
She put my hands firmly inside my pockets. Still obvious sign of nerves, but the person doesn't want to be seen to given off signals.  
“It is not the best option for me, and I don’t think it is for you either. But let’s have dinner first; I don’t want to start arguing on an empty stomach.” She said  
“We have already started arguing, but you go ahead and heat up something, I of course won’t need any food.” I said going to my usual chair.  
“You blooming well are. I’m going to heat two meals, and then not talk at all to you till you start eating it.” As soon as I had said it I realised it was a mistake.” Molly ended the last sentence abruptly, realising it may have been a mistake. It was.  
“You’ve forgotten, you are the one who needs conversation. I could happily spend the whole evening in silence, especially if that means we can delay our stupid discussion where you try and convince me that we should become romantically involved. Anyway you will have to leave and ten o'clock because of my curfew.”  
“Well I won’t be back tomorrow, or ever. If you want me as your friend, you have to listen to my advice and my arguments sometimes, and tonight is one of those times. I can quite easily convince none of our other friends to visit you this weekend either. Do you really want the whole weekend, with just your mind and this stupid Moriarty case to think about? Are you sure that going to actually help you, to you know be a better person. Because you can do it if you want to, but at the moment I’m not seeing any signs of that.” Molly was sounding angry as she stormed out to the kitchen, I'm not sure if that was because she already couldn't stand to be in the same room as me, or because she afraid of showing her emotions in-front of me. Either way I knew I had to be strong, for us to stop being romantically involved was the logical solution, for both us. I did want to become the person my friends believed I could be, but not compromising my mind palace, or the person I was along the way. If I was being extra hard and forthright tonight, it's because only I understood what was needed.  
We sat in silence, She was glaring at me, waiting for me to back down, and apologise, or at least eat the food that had been placed in-front of me, but I wasn’t going to. I was glaring back at her, I was sure Molly would be the first to crack and talk to me. Eventually I picked up a spoonful f the pasta, it smelled okay but no, I couldn't put it into my mouth, having someone watch me, always puts me off my food.  
“It would actually be easier to eat this if I didn’t feel I my every move was being watched and monitored. Now that you are no longer my partner, or ever really were, what right have you got to over scrutinize me?”  
“Fine I’ll go and clear up, and make us some drinks, fancy a hot chocolate?” This time I could tell Molly was fighting back the tears, her voice was even higher than usual

It was ten minutes when Molly came back with two mugs of hot chocolate I had eaten the pasta, it seemed to right thing to do after upsetting her before, and it was satisfying.  
“That wasn’t so bad was it, well mine was nice anyway” she said.  
“Taste means very little to me, but it was pleasant enough. Let’s stop with the small talk, neither of us is going to get much rest tonight unless this issue between us has been resolved. While lack of sleep does not bother me, I know it does you, so shall we discuss our relationship, or has tonight already shown you I am right.”  
I usually try to be a bit more polite to the people who mean something to me, especially Molly, as can be sensitive. But this conversation needed me to be at my most forthright, show her why a relationship with me would never work. For once Molly didn't looked fazed by my speech, actually she had an odd smile on her face.  
“It’ll take more than one argument to push me away Sherlock. I know you too well now. You need me, this relationship. You need something to stop you obsessing about cases and villains. That is why you first asked me to come over in the evenings remember? Well I know this scares you, and you feel out of your depth, but it’s ok. Us being in relationship will give you new things to put into that mind palace of yours, but that won’t stop you being the great detective you are. There is room for both things in that great mind of yours. These new thoughts and feelings might take out some of the frustration and need of control that you felt before. They should make you a better person Sherlock Holmes, like I said before, you need me. As for me deserving someone better, yes I do deserve someone who isn’t going to push me away the day after we first kiss, someone that I don’t feel I have to watch eat every mealtime, and worry about when I’m not there. Someone who knows how to be polite and treat a woman. But I also know you can be all of those things Sherlock, it’s just a case of letting yourself change. And more importantly I don’t want anyone else, I don’t mean in a silly schoolgirl type of crush way that is behind me now. I mean I see the man you truly are, the man who wants to save everyone, and be a hero, but don’t know how. The great mind that feels the need to stay focussed on one ting until it kills him, which needs to learn to let go sometimes. Sorry if I’m scaring you, but it is how I feel. Finally this.”  
When had Molly learned to stand up for herself? I suppose this is something I have seen a few times before, but I didn't expect it tonight. Before I'd had time to think of a decent response She put my lips over mine. Was it fair to kiss a man when he wasn't expecting it? I have to admit I felt the electricity before even started kissing properly, and it just kept getting stronger, in the end Molly had to move away from me so we didn't take things further.  
“Still think we shouldn’t be together?” she asked.  
I composed myself before replying “Yes. I admit there seems to be some physical attraction between us, but I sincerely think that we shouldn't be giving into it. Not at present anyway. It's the wrong time for me, as I need to be concentrating on finding Moriarty, and when this case is over, who knows what my future holds. I may be sent on another overseas case that I'm not meant to return from. How will you deal with that, if you're in a relationship with me at the time? I also think I'm currently the worst kind of man for you to be in a relationship with. I would suggest you find yourself someone better, but if you insist on waiting for me, there may be one day when our romance is possible, and I can be a man deserving of your affections. Maybe, it would be better if you left now, I think us trying to be friends is going to extremely difficult in the near future. Don't worry about me though I have other people who can support me the way you have over the last month.”  
Molly picked up her handbag and ran out the door, maybe I shouldn't have let her drive away in such a bad emotional state, but I was more concerned she didn't see how upset I was. I was upset as-well; I wanted her so much, but I knew I had to let her go for both our sakes.


	5. Molly's diary 21st March

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to Molly's diary, can see mend her relationship with Sherlock?

9am  
Well I stated in my entry a weeks ago that I thought it might be hard having a relationship with Sherlock Holmes. Seems I was right, he dumped me the next day. By text. I went round that evening to try and sort things out, but he was just so unreasonable. I know this is new for him, and he doesn't cope well with new things. And I also understand he's scared that this relationship will affect his mind too much and make him less good as a detective, but I really don't think that'll happen. I tried to say this to him, but I haven't seen him that stubborn for ages, I'm sure some of it was an act. At the end, the part that really made me break into tears, was when he told me not to worry about him. If only Sherlock understood how much I do worry about him; his neglect of food, these walls he puts up , so others see him as selfish and arrogant. The way when someone does get close, he just pushes them away. Sorry about the blotches on the paper, I couldn't write the last sentence without getting emotional, but today I need to be strong. I'm going back to Baker Street, and I'm going to talk to Sherlock again, I need him as a friend if nothing else, and I know he needs me.

10.10pm  
Sherlock just left here in a taxi. We've just had amazing sex. Yes I'm aware we've only been back together for less than 2 hours, and had only one evening before that. A lot of people would call me easy, but I don't care. It was the sweetest sex ever, he is such a gentle yet passionate lover.

Anyway I should probably start with what happened when I went round earlier. After what I wrote in my diary earlier I was in such a mood, not exactly a bad mood, more strong, determined. Sherlock was not going make my cry again today. I managed to keep this energy / mood, not quite sure what the right name for it is, with me till I reached Baker street. It did mean driving faster than usual to keep the energy raising in me. I hope I didn't pass any speed cameras. When I got there, I did weaken a bit, but I just took a deep breath before knocking, and when Sherlock came to the door, I remembered I was actually doing this for him as much as for me.  
“I thought I'd come and see how your doing. Ok if I come in” I wanted to keep it polite, not make Sherlock cross, unless I had to.  
“You can see that I'm still alive, and pretty healthy, from there, but since you have come to see me, I'll let you in. You'll only tell John and Mary that I'm being even more rude than usual otherwise. One condition though, we don't resume the argument of last Monday.”  
“Thank you, and don't worry I don't want to argue either.” The last bit, was technically true, I didn't want it to become an argument again, although I wasn't going to back down this time.  
He walked straight into the lounge, so I made a couple of mugs of coffee and joined him. I had to pick my fights today, and his manners, or lack of them didn't come into it.  
“So how have you been. On the inside as well as the outside. I know I've been struggling since Monday. It's never easy when people break up. I've missed seeing you at work, or coming here in the evenings as-well. I guess that's the real reason I popped over today.”  
“I'm sorry if you've been struggling with your feelings this week. Or if I was too harsh on Monday, but I wanted you the understand what I was saying. I've been fine, I have to bury most of my emotions when I'm working a case, and Moriarty needs that more than most villains I've faced. This is why I had to end, our romance, but as we had one romantic evening together, I'm not sure if it even counts as that. As for being friends, I let you into my flat today. I wouldn't say that I've missed you this week, but I'm glad your here ” Sherlock said  
I wanted to go and slap him on the face, but even though he'd let me do that once before, I had a feeling he wouldn't now. This was different, Sherlock actually believed what he said about burying his emotions.  
“Oh my god Sherlock, you are so wrong about burying your emotions. How long have you been seeing that therapist now? Doesn't he have anything to say about this? I know dealing with emotions can be tricky, and even seem distracting from work, or whatever we want to be thinking about. But it's so important that you learn to deal with them, bottling up it makes them more intense when they do surface, and they will. They'll end up hurting you more and ending you to hurt others.”  
“I have to see my stupid therapist once a week for these kind of talks, I do not need them from people who say they want to be my friends.” Sherlock shouted, I'm sure the thin walls vibrated, and Mrs Hudson could probably hear the argument upstairs. I needed to calm the conversation down before it got really out of hand.  
“You're right I'm sorry Sherlock. I worry about you when you, but that doesn't give me the right to lecture you. As it's Saturday, why don't we one of our cooking days, I fancy making pizzas for tonight, and then maybe some burgers for the freezer. I'll just need to go home to get the stuff from my kitchen. I didn't bring any ingredients with me today.”  
“No, I'm not in the mood, and you'll only force me to eat it anyway. If you want pizza, what's wrong a delivery?” Sherlock was getting moodier and less communicative. Had I really blown it that bad by trying to get him to see he needed to open up?  
Half an hour of silence later, I thought I probably had. I tried to open the discussion of several different subjects, cases that had come into the morgue, news, favourite cases that we've worked together. (Mine is the last time he fought Moriarty. Not the actual fall, and everyone thinking he was dead, but the planning, and just feeling like Sherlock really needed me.) Sherlock didn't answer that, or anything else I asked, he just sat there in silence. In the end I just got up.  
“Well I'm going home, no point me being here at all. If you fancy being alone all weekend, and not seeing me next week, stay here, but if you do want to come and help me make pizzas, then you're welcome.” As I walked down the stairs, I couldn't believe what a disaster the day had turned into, I should give up on ever having a relationship with Sherlock. Could we ever be the friends we had been for those three weeks though?

I went to close the door behind me, and realised Sherlock was walking down the stairs, even if he was just coming to see me off this was an improvident. And enough to make my heart beat faster, but I wanted to play hard to get a little bit, after how he been treating me all morning.  
“You didn't have to come and see me off”  
“You said I could come to your flat with you, well I'm accepting the offer. I'm curious to see your flat, and” Sherlock paused, I wasn't going to make it easy for him, not this time. He continued “I'll admit that the evenings have been longer since you stopped visiting. I know I can be hard work, but I want to give our friendship one more try.” He smiled that smile that made his whole face look goofy, it melted away any anger I felt.  
“Friends it is. I said opening to door to my car.”

I knew I would always struggle to keep our relationship as a friendship, but if that's what Sherlock needed, than that's what I would give him. The tour of my one bedroom flat must of taken less than 5 minutes, I could tell Sherlock was less than impressed. Part of me wanted to say we didn't all have big brothers who cold afford to help us out with the rent, but I was going to work hard to keep things civil for the rest of the day. Making pizzas seemed a good idea at first, we both relaxing into each others company and chatting as if there had never been a disagreement. Quite interesting school story stuff, I loved hearing about Sherlock's rebellious phase, but then I always have had a thing for a bad boy. As we started making the tomato sauce, things started hotting up in a way that had nothing to do with the oven. Sherlock was getting good cooking, I really think this could be a good hobby for him. The only problem is he knows he is good at it; sometimes he refuses to listen to my instructions, saying he knows how to do it better. Therefore I keep a close eye on what he's doing, try to keep guiding him in the right direction as best I can.  
He was stirring the sauce far to vigorously, almost whisking it.  
“Slow it down a bit, if you stir it gently you won't end up with all those bubbles in it, it will be a much smoother sauce.”  
“nonsense there so small there not going matter. Everyone knows the harder you mix a sauce like this, the thinner the sauce, and I always prefer thin sauces. This how the real Italians do it, I saw it it some daytime rubbish that Mrs Hudson forced me to watch.”  
I was about to comment that I'd never seen any Italians do this, and I've watched a lot cookery shows, plus been to Italy. But before I had time to say anything, Sherlock splashed my face with sauce. Suddenly I had an idea of how to show Sherlock that cooking could be fun, and ease the tension that coming in.  
“Hey, that was my face” I said grabbing my spoon, and splashed some sauce towards Sherlock, it hit his hair. Now he would have to shower it off before he went home, if only let me into that shower with him. No, I had to stop these thoughts, Sherlock had made it clear he wanted nothing but friendship. And because I was away in my own thoughts, I was caught off guard when Sherlock chucked a handful of sauce right at my face.  
He said “ Mine was a mistake, yours was on purpose. But if you really want to waste good food. I'd rather play with it than eat it.”  
Because I wasn't ready for it, the sauce landed right in my face, including my eyes. I blindly started moving towards the sink.  
I felt Sherlock take my arm. “Molly I'm sorry, I thought you were expecting it, that you would duck, or something. I'll help you at-least. “ Sherlock turned on the cold water tap, not knowing how it sometimes came on very fast, I was leaning over the sink, so my whole face, and top got drenched. I ran quickly to my room to change. This was turning into a disaster, if only I hadn't started the blooming food fight. Now I had more visions of Sherlock naked, and acted like an idiot in-front of him, letting the sauce land on my face, and getting soaked. Suddenly I realised Sherlock was standing in my room, looking at me in my bra. I grabbed the wet t-shirt.  
“Get out, you idiot, don't you know never to walk into a ladies bedroom without knocking, especially if you know she's changing.”  
“I just wanted to make sure you were ok. If there had been any tomato left in your eyes, you may have needed my assistance But you seem to be all right, so I'll go into the lounge.” Sherlock paused but didn't leave the room. “No actually I need to say this before I go, You look lovely in your underwear. I'm calculating that I may have made of a mistake last week, that maybe continuing our relationship would not be a bad idea.” This was it, Sherlock wanted me again, if I was sensible I would have made him wait, especially after what he put me through, but maybe I just don't know how to be sensible when Sherlock is concerned.  
“Are you suggesting that you would like to see me naked, on that bed Mr Homes?”  
“Doctor Hooper, you are making me feel hot. Unfortunately that is making my shirt and trousers uncomfortable. I can only thin of one solution to this problem.” He was starting to take off his shirt, but I went over, and took his hand.  
“This part is my pleasure” I whispered in his ear as I continued to remove his shirt and his trousers.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, and thanks for reading. Feel free to comment, on the story or whether you think I've got the characters right. I'm a new writer so any advice on this is appreciated. Also feel free to comment on any spelling / grammar.


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